Family Tradition
by DemonaTheDarkOne
Summary: A family that cries together stays together. Grief 101: How to deal Dawn Summers' style


TITLE: Family Tradition  
AUTHOR: Demona  
EMAIL: A family that cries together stays together. Grief 101: How to deal - Dawn Summers' style.  
SPOILER WARNING:  
For Buffy: All seven seasons  
X2: Through the movie, including Jean's death.  
RATING: T for a few bad words.  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters in Buffy the Vampire Slayer and/or Angel the Series; they belong to Fox, the WB/UPN, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. I do not own any of the characters in X-Men; they belong to their creators (who I am too lazy at the current moment to look up). The most important thing is that I do not own any of these characters. I just "borrow" them for my own personal amusement and entertainment. However, the ideas, concepts, and original characters in this story are mine entirely. Please do not copy or take this story without my permission. Joss Whedon is God...

AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
THIS IS A STAND-ALONE STORY. ONE SHOT DEAL.  
This is a series of moments captured in the eyes of Dawn Summers. In this world, Buffy's family and Scott Summers are related through Hank Summers.

And comments, good or bad, are welcome.

May 31st, 1998

It's been a family tradition for years now. A fucked up tradition, but one nonetheless. And I'm not one to rock the boat.

It started when Buffy ran away in high school almost two weeks ago. Cousin Scott and his beautiful girlfriend Jean showed up outta the blue. They stayed for a week, helping my Mom out. Scott took me out for ice cream. Jean took me shopping. It was the best week ever. I was the center of attention for once. Me instead of Buffy and I loved it. Turns out Buffy had sent Scott a letter and asked him to come out check on us. So it turned out it was all about Buffy once again – I should have known.

After Mom assured and reassured Scott and Jean that she had everything under control they left. They had their own lives in New York.

It would be a year before I saw them again.

May 27th, 1999

Angel – Buffy's hot older boyfriend – left her. So, yeah they've had some problems. And yeah he kidnapped me once, but still. They're supposed to be together – like peanut butter and jelly – forever. But as it turns out nothing is forever – especially where Buffy is concerned.

Buffy's graduation, Faith's coma, the high school getting demolished, and Angel's departure all coincided with a sad letter from Scott. A friend of his was recently killed – reason unknown or not mentioned. Buffy needed the vacation. Hell, we all needed one.

So, it's off to Merry New England – or darn close to it – to see the extended fam. And I do like Scott. I really do. But I only wish we'd stop hanging out under such shitty circumstances.

This time Buffy brought the ice cream and Mom took him shopping. And I was left behind. Mom thought Scott needed alone time with an adult to talk about life and things. And of course that couldn't be done around me. And according to Buffy, Scott needed to hang out with someone close to his age – laugh and cry even. And again – this couldn't be accomplished if I was around. So, it was Scott's girlfriend Jean that kept an eye on me. She took me out for ice cream and a movie. She took me shopping. And finally before the end of our stay she held Buffy and Mom at bay so I could hang out with Scott.

Playing pool with Scott was the highlight of my trip. We didn't talk about anything important. We just existed.

And when we were about to board our flight home Scott pulled me into a tight bear hug. He whispered in my ear his thanks. Simply for hanging out with him and not talking about. Sometimes people just needed the quiet.

June 2nd, 2001

The doorbell rang at quarter past two on a Sunday afternoon. The fact that the doorbell rant was shocking enough. I rose, on autopilot, from my seat on the couch and walked to the door. I pulled it open and looked up to see a brunette with some funky shades. It took me close to ten seconds to realize that this was my cousin, Scott, from my Dad's side.

After I put two and two together, the memories came rushing back to me. It was almost overwhelming as a lifetime of memories, conversations, actions, all became real. I offered him a weak smile.

Scott looked down at me. Even with the funky red ruby shades you I could tell that he looked confused. His eyes darted around, looking for some confirmation that this was indeed the right house. I let him sweat for a moment and then let him off the hook.

"Hey Scott, it's good to see you again," I quietly broke the unease silence. Nothing seemed to register for him even after I spoke to him. "I'm Dawn, Dawn Summers," I added after a moment. The look of shock on his face would have been humorous if it hadn't been in relation to me.

"Little Dawnie? Wow, you've grown up!" Scott finally spoke.

I couldn't explain just how relieved I was that he recognized my name, if not my face. I also sagged in that knowledge as well.

"Yeah it's me," I answered with another weak smile.

"Dawnie, who's at the door?" Tara called as she headed my way. I turned to tell her but she was already there. She looked over my shoulder and stared straight at Scott. "Can I help you?" Tara asked, in the soft way she always did.

"Tara, this is my cousin Scott…Scott this is Tara… She's a friend of the family," I introduced them. Scott offered her a reasonably friendly smile before returning his gaze to me.

"Is Aunt Joyce here? I haven't from her in awhile and I was getting a little worried."

The words just stopped time. He didn't know. We hadn't told him. Why? Why had Buffy forgotten about Scott?

"No. She's not here," I heard myself say. The voice was too calm, too dead, to be my own. Tara slid an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close to her.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this Scott, but Joyce died a few months ago," Tara spoke the words that I couldn't bear. I watched as his face crumbled slightly.

"Well…wow," he couldn't continue. We stood there in silence for a few minutes as he gathered his bearings. "Buffy?"

One single word broke my heart – again. One name.

Tara looked down at me and I nodded. He was family. And he deserved to know about Buffy.

"She died two weeks ago," Tara calmly stated.

"What?" Scott yelled, tensing up. "They are both dead and no one, no one, bothers to inform the family?" Scott ranted. "Who exactly are you again? And why are you here with my little cousin? Where is Uncle Hank?"

I stepped out from under Tara's arm and away from the comfortable, protected feeling. I put myself in between Tara and my unhappy cousin.

"Hank doesn't know. He doesn't deserve to know. Buffy sent him a letter when Mom died, she called; she tried to contact him. Imagine our utter surprise when the phone number belonged to someone else. And even better that the address didn't belong to him anymore – and he hadn't bothered to leave a forwarding address. Hank has clearly established that he doesn't give a shit about his family. The people that are here with me now are my family. They have been my family for years…well…yeah. But point being that they aren't going anywhere, and neither am I," I explained to him.

"Buffy is dead. And apparently your mother has been dead for awhile too. These might be good friends, but they're not your family. I'm family. And I think you need to come back to New York with me. I'll make the arrangements immediately."

"Family isn't just determined by blood. Family is the people that put their lives on hold to help you with yours, without question or expectation of anything in return. These people aren't going to give me up so easily," I added, carefully, because I didn't want to push him to do anything too rash.

He stared at me. Hard. And it was an eerie few moments where he just stared at my face before he came to a decision. He took a step toward me, closing the distance, and pulled me into his embrace. I didn't bother to fight it. It felt too good. I pressed my head against his strong chest, wrapped my arms around his waist, and didn't bother to fight back the tears that flowed.

We stood there, in the other's embrace for a few minutes before we finally broke apart. He looked down at me and wiped my tears off my cheeks with his thumbs.

"Let's go inside and talk about how this is going to work out," he suggested to me with a small smile. I managed to get out a tiny smile as well.

He placed his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him, as we walked into the house.

Somehow things always were better when Scott was around. Things might not be perfect but they were going to be manageable.

April 30th, 2003

The funeral notice came in the mail today, right smack dab in the middle of fighting a losing battle against the First. I didn't even bother to let Buffy know. She had too much on her plate as it was. If we lived through this then I would tell her. It would be a great present to ourselves to take a mini-vacation from the Hellmouth. Sure, descending into Mutant High might not be the most normal but I was willing to just accept that.

I put the card aside with the rest of my important documents and went on about my daily business. We had a house full of Potentials and they needed constant supervision. It was like caring for a litter of puppies - they got into everything and ate you outta house and home.

A month later Buffy and I stood at the front door to Xavier's School waiting for someone to answer the door. Ororo was the one to finally pull the door open and grace us with her presence. She took us both in and offered us a tiny sad smile.

"You're a little late," she quietly commented as she continued to block the doorway.

"Yes, we are. Turns out Sunnydale turned into a lake and we had a hard time getting out," Buffy tossed out with an indifferent shrug.

I knew that Scott would get the whole story. Superheroes tend to compare notes more often then you'd guess.

Ororo nodded slightly and stepped back. That was all the invitation we were going to get. Buffy walked inside first and I followed behind her. I could see a few things had changed in the place. But the kids staring with avid curiosity hadn't. The funeral announcement hadn't mentioned how Jean had died. But I was willing to bet it wasn't a pleasant death. Superheroes usually die pretty shitty deaths despite what the comics say. Heroic deaths just aren't what they're made out to be.

It was several hours later when I finally got to see Scott. Buffy had taken first crack at him. And this was normally where Jean would swoop in and entertain me. Her absence was devastating. I felt him walk into the room rather than heard him. You don't survive on the Hellmouth without picking up a sixth sense for your surroundings.

I turned and looked over my shoulder at him. He stood in the doorway in his fancy glasses and preppy clothes. My cousin - ladies and gentlemen - the tight ass. I took the shot while keeping eye contact. I heard the ball drop into the corner pocket and I smiled.

"Wanna play a round or two?" I offered and he headed my way.

It was rare for us to actually talk. Despite the fact that we both felt comfortable around each other, there was hardly any conversation. But that was the way it always was. And I wasn't eager to break the rules this time round. He had lost Jean. And I had just lost Spike, Anya, and countless others in a war that was partially my fault. I briefly wondered what Buffy told him about the battle and just how close we came to not pulling it off. She probably did. They probably shed tears over the huge losses they had recently experienced. But I dismissed the thought quickly. Scott and I never discussed those things - again, there was no need to change things now.

May 7th, 2004

The call came just minutes ago. Scott, on the phone from New York, calling to speak with Buffy. I'm sure he might have meant to speak with me as well. But Buffy cut him off and told him that we would be on the first plane outta Italy.

Family tradition.

Something horrible happens and in rolls the Summers cavalry. We're ready for just about any horrible situation.

"Dawnie," Buffy called as she appeared in my doorway. I looked up from my books and smiled slightly. "Pack a bag for a week or so. We're headed to New York," Buffy explained.

"What's going on? That was Scott right?" I ask, although I'm already moving toward my tiny closet for my luggage.

"Yes. He called with some great news."

"Great news? What happened?"

"Jean came back. She's alive. I thought this would be as good a reason as any to go to New York. Don't you think?"

"It's about time we started a new trend," I mutter and I hear her laugh as she exits my room.

Family tradition. It's been around for years now. A fucked up tradition, but one nonetheless. And I'm not one to rock the boat.


End file.
